*Two Months Later*
Today marked exactly one year since Arthur was transported into this dangerous world.
In that short time, he had built a new kingdom that sent ripples through Middle-earth.
Over the past two months, no major wars broke out—only minor skirmishes along the border or near Echoriath Sûl.
During this time, the population of Aetherion grew rapidly.
Many people sought refuge here, and Arthur welcomed them.
Of course, Arthur did not let people in blindly.
He instructed his guards to carefully screen every single newcomer.
He could not risk allowing shadow spies or dark sorcerer vessels to settle within his lands.
Arthur was currently riding Rochgál not far from Barad-Glinn Nim, completely alone.
Although Arandhir and the others insisted on accompanying him, Arthur declined, wanting a moment of solitude.
No one dared to argue.
It was not only the King’s order, but Arthur had also proven himself to be a formidable leader.
Arthur wore all-black armor beneath a dark gray cloak.
The Ice Sword rested at his hip, and a silver crown sat upon his brow.
Now that Aetherion was stabilizing, Arthur decided to wear the crown as a symbol of royalty, following the advice of his commanders.
Riding atop Rochgál, Arthur addressed the System that had accompanied him for the past year.
Everything he possessed today was a gift from it.
“System, I want to perform my Annual Check-in!” Arthur called out, still galloping forward.
[DING!
Congratulations to the Host for completing the First Annual Check-in!]
[DING!
Congratulations to the Host for acquiring *Crown of the Silver Frost*!]
[DING!
Congratulations to the Host for acquiring *Frost Wyvern – Khaelros, the Silver Frost Guardian*!]
[DING!
Congratulations to the Host for acquiring troops : 500 Knights!]
[DING!
Congratulations to the Host for acquiring troops: 300 Archers!]
[DING!
Congratulations to the Host for acquiring troops: 100 Scouts!]
[DING!
Congratulations to the Host for acquiring troops: 200 Cavalry!]
[DING!
Congratulations to the Host for acquiring : 2 troops Commanders!]
Hearing the rewards, Arthur pulled Rochgál’s reins, bringing the horse to a halt.
He was stunned—the rewards were beyond impressive.
He immediately felt a shift in his crown.
The simple silver band transformed into a piece that mirrored his sword, radiating a cold, frost-like aura.
Its base remained silver, but it now glowed with a faint cyan light.
Its abilities were equally remarkable.
It granted a passive effect similar to *King Radiance Aura*—striking fear into enemies while inspiring awe in allies.
It gave fear and terror resistance to all soldiers near Arthur, ensuring his troops would not panic when facing Orcs or dark creatures.
The crown also granted *Clarity of Mind* when planning battle strategies and enhanced his vision through dense fog or blizzards to spot enemy movements from afar.
As for the Frost Wyvern, Arthur was speechless.
Aetherion now had a legendary guardian beast—a Cold-Drake variant of ancient times.
And finally, the army reward he had been anticipating most.
Until now, the System had only granted small squads.
This time, it delivered over a thousand soldiers at once, along with two commanders who would be vital for the kingdom’s expansion.
“Rochgál, let’s head back!” Arthur said, pulling the reins.
Rochgál understood instantly and galloped back toward Barad-Glinn Nim.
The evening sun cast a deep red glow over Barad-Glinn Nim, stretching long shadows across its ancient stone walls.
The air surrounding the fortress was frozen and silent, broken only by the howling northern wind sweeping through the mountain pass.
The warning horn of Aetherion sounded three times from the main watchtower.
It was not a call to arms, but a signal announcing the arrival of a massive legion marching in perfect formation toward the outer gates.
King Arthur stepped onto the stone balcony alongside Arandhir.
The *Crown of the Silver Frost* glowed with a calm yet commanding silver light on Arthur’s head.
At his hip, the *Ice Sword* hummed softly, vibrating in response to the synchronized footsteps of armored boots shaking the ground below.
From behind the rocky ridge emerged a massive army marching in tight, precise war formations.
A total of 1,100 soldiers strode steadily across the snow.
At the front, the silver banner of ancient Arnor fluttered proudly—the symbol of the *Guard of the Arnor Remnant*, a legion of Dúnedain who had lived in isolation in the far north of Eriador since the fall of Amon Sûl.
Two men rode at the head of the army.
On the left, mounted on a massive black armored warhorse, sat Valerius the Tactician.
His imposing frame was clad in dark steel armor etched with ancient Arnorian runes, a greatsword strapped to his back.
To his left rode Halleth on a swift silver steed—a master of rapid dual-blade combat wrapped in a frost-wolf fur cloak, two twin swords hanging at his waist.
Directly before Aetherion’s main gate, the entire legion came to a halt.
Valerius and Halleth dismounted.
They stepped forward into the main courtyard, drew their swords, and planted the tips into the soil.
Both knelt on one knee before King Arthur.
In unison—with a thundering clash of armor, swords, and shields that echoed like an avalanche—all 1,100 soldiers behind them knelt in respect.
“For hundreds of winters, we survived the dark north without a king, preserving the fading honor of Arnor,” Valerius’s deep voice echoed across the courtyard.
“Yet three nights ago, a divine vision guided us.
We saw the glow of the Silver Crown and the Ice Sword rising from this fortress—calling the blood of the Dúnedain to unite once more.”
Halleth looked up, his sharp eyes meeting the glowing crown upon Arthur’s head.
“Fate has led us out of exile, Your Majesty.
Our blades have remained drawn beneath the northern shadows for too long.
We bring 500 shield-bearing Knights, 300 master Archers, 100 Scouts, and 200 Cavalry.
We come not to seek shelter, but to answer fate’s call and offer our blades and lives to Aetherion.”
Arthur looked down at the massive army before him.
The System’s fate-manipulation had guided real, isolated warriors through the wilderness to join him naturally.
The arrival of this legion instantly transformed Aetherion into a formidable military power in Eriador.
Arthur drew his *Ice Sword* and raised it high.
A beam of silver-blue light pierced the twilight sky, illuminating the kneeling troops and making the banners of Arnor glisten beneath the ice energy.
“Rise, Knights of the North!” Arthur declared, his voice carrying clearly through the wind.
“Your visions did not lie.
Under the banner of Aetherion, we shall stand together against the coming storm!”
With a roar of cheers from over a thousand soldiers, a new era for the Kingdom of Aetherion officially began.
Following the reception, Arthur handed the organization of the new troops to Arandhir, his high commander.
The forces were divided according to their specialties:
Cavalry (200 troops): Placed under Kaelan for long-range patrols.
Scouts (100 troops): Placed under Valerin to monitor the borders and mountain passes.
Archers (300 troops): Temporarily assigned to Arandhir until Elmir joined them.
Knights (500 troops) & 2 New Commanders: Valerius and Halleth were appointed as frontline and fortress commanders, working alongside Arandhir to fortify Barad-Glinn Nim.
Later that night, the wind above the main gate of Barad-Glinn Nim suddenly died down.
An eerie silence settled over the fortress, soon replaced by a surge of freezing air so intense that the courtyard fountains froze solid in seconds.
The guards atop the ramparts pulled their thick cloaks tight.
From the northern mountains, a dense blanket of fog rolled in rapidly, bringing with it a massive winged shadow slicing through the dark night.
The warning horn blew.
Arandhir and the officers rushed to the courtyard with swords drawn.
But before anyone could take a battle stance, an ancient Frost Wyvern swooped down from the sky.
It was as large as a living siege tower, its silver crystal scales glowing with a cold blue light.
The creature landed atop the main gatehouse.
The impact of its massive talons shook the ancient stone foundation, while the flap of its broad wings scattered ice particles in every direction.
King Arthur walked calmly into the center of the courtyard.
The *Crown of the Silver Frost* emitted a steady silver glow.
At his hip, the *Ice Sword* hummed loudly, vibrating within its scabbard as if greeting an old acquaintance.
Arthur slowly drew his blade.
The eternal ice edge gleamed with a brilliant blue aura, slicing through the swirling fog.
Seeing the drawn sword, the Frost Wyvern did not breathe frost or roar in anger.
Instead, it lowered its massive head until it was level with the stone balcony, gazing at Arthur with deep, ancient blue eyes.
The freezing air trembled as a voice echoed—not through the air, but directly inside Arthur’s mind and across the silent courtyard.
The voice was deep, calm, and heavy with the weight of forgotten ages.
“The northern wind has carried its echo to the peaks of Ered Mithrin, King of Men…” the Wyvern spoke, its voice sounding like grinding glaciers.
“For hundreds of winters, I slept in silence, waiting for the pulse of the blade forged from the heart of eternal ice to awaken once more.”
Arthur raised the *Ice Sword* to chest height, allowing its frost energy to resonate with the creature’s aura.
“If you have come answering its call,” Arthur spoke clearly, “then you know who stands before you and what is being built upon these lands.”
The Wyvern bowed its head even lower.
It folded its massive wings of silver-ice membrane neatly against its sides—a gesture of submission no dragon would ever show to a common ruler.
“I recognize the blood flowing through your veins, Hir-Helchmegil.
That blade will not serve a fragile soul, and the crown upon your head will not shine for an ordinary lord,”* the Wyvern continued, its eyes blinking slowly.
“This world prepares for a great storm from the East.
I come not as a mere servant, but to be the shield and wings of the rising Kingdom of Aetherion.”
Arthur stepped up the stone stairs, reaching out his left hand to touch the dragon’s cold, crystalline snout.
There was no resistance—only a magical bond forming between the ruler of the land and the guardian of the skies.
“Your name shall be known as the guardian of this Kingdom,” Arthur whispered.
“Remain atop Aetherion.”
With a long roar that echoed across the mountains, the Frost Wyvern bound its oath of loyalty—marking the start of a new era where the skies and lands of Aetherion were guarded by unbroken frost power.